


The Girl Who Used To Be A Bird, The Boy Who Was Named Trouble

by Lillian



Series: April verse [2]
Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Bisexuality, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-30
Updated: 2010-04-30
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:44:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillian/pseuds/Lillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana and Merlin's fairytale is a mutually beneficial one</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Girl Who Used To Be A Bird, The Boy Who Was Named Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and I'm making no money of their use.

Merlin leaves while Arthur is still sleeping, a slice of light dividing his face in two dark halves with a ribbon of golden stubble and berry-red lips in between. Merlin knows he has to be gone before the light reaches Arthur's eyes. He wants to touch, to press his lips or the pad of his thumb to the place on Arthur's neck where the beating of his heart will be easiest to feel, but in the end Merlin only tugs the covers up, guarding Arthur's naked back against the cold.

It's as fitting a goodbye for them as any.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Morgana's waiting for him at a crossroads, half a day's ride from Camelot.

She sizes him up, head to toe, and they bare their teeth at each other in not quite grins, hands already reaching for sheaths.

They fight jaw to jaw, so close that magic's impractical, so close they can only use their bodies and daggers, their boots scuffling into road dirt, bringing up dust clouds as high as their knees, while their coursers graze the fresh spring grass in the gutter, unconcerned.

Morgana's eyes are glittering, fox feral green, and Merlin wants to spill her life so bad he can taste it, to finish this war so he can rest, not be terrified for Arthur's life every waking moment.

From one heartbeat to the next time seems to slow not of Merlin's doing as magic coils between them, snapping and rearranging itself, until, for the first time in Merlin's life, it is just right.

He comes back to himself with his palms on her face, the heels of his hands digging into the hollows under her cheekbones, his fingers burrowed into her tresses. Merlin's not sure if he's holding himself or her back from kissing, and it seems she doesn't know either.

They only stopped in the first place because it'd come to breathe or die.

"Did you foresee this?" Merlin asks, breathless, against her lips.

"If I had, I wouldn't have come," Morgana grits through clenched teeth. "_I_ don't let destiny choose who I bed."

When Morgana had sent word they were to end the enmity between them once and for all, this was not what Merlin had expected.

 

~ ~ ~

 

They end up going at it then and there, upright, Morgana riding Merlin's thigh and scraping her nails on his scalp in her haste to align their lips. Merlin wants to touch her everywhere, can't decide where to start. He slides his hands against muscular thighs and arse, fast and frantic, slips them under hauberk and shirt to rest at the sweat-slick skin of Morgana's back before skimming down her sides, his fingers catching in the little grooves between Morgana's ribs, finally sneaking below the waistline of her trousers.

Morgana's breath hitches when he rubs her but when he tries to move further she catches his wrist with steely, trembling fingers. Merlin lets her guide him, lets her turn her face into his shoulder, breath moist to his shirt, but pulls her away from biting while she comes.

He sees no reason why she should get everything she wants if he's not allowed.

Merlin lifts Morgana up with magic and muscle, grinds to completion against her hip, his cheek sliding against hers, absurdly thankful she can't see his face, small mercy amidst disaster.

 

~ ~ ~

 

"Merlin," Morgana starts, after, her eyes human again and as wide as his own must be. "Merlin, do you know what the best way to seal a peace treaty is?"

They heal the wounds they left on each other's skin, a dozen or so cuts each, between negotiating the conditions.

 

~ ~ ~

 

"Can you explain to me how you left to gather herbs and brought back Morgana and marriage lines instead?"

"It just, Arthur, there's no way she can get back on her word and- everybody got what they most wanted without me having to kill anyone, for once. It was- you could say it was the magic's idea."

"And then what, the magic made you fuck her?"

"No, I did that all on my own."  
...

"Oh, you have got to be- you don't get to do this to me, you don't get to be jealous, not when we all but made a damn rota when you married Gwen."

"I had to, Merlin, I have responsibilities, I need sons."

"Do you think me stupid enough to believe that, just because I haven't called you on it? If you were only concerned about heirs you would have married a princess, not a servant."  
...

"I just removed the last threat to your authority, not to mention your life. I made the high priestess of the Old Religion your ally-- and you. You-"  
...

"Or did you think because I've begged you to take me I wouldn't be able to love a woman?"

 

~ ~ ~

 

Morgana's old rooms are habitable already, dusted, tapestries and curtains hung and all the windows open to let air in.

She's taking a bath, hair slick as seal fur. She takes one look at his face, says "I take it Arthur is not throwing us a wedding feast. Did you inform him I'm not allowed to try to kill him anymore?" and reaches towards him over the side of the tub.

Her lips curl slightly, pleasure and amusement and reassurance plain in her smile, and Merlin knows he should be concerned to be able to read Morgana so well after only two days of renewed friendly acquaintance. Merlin doesn't want to care, just wants to catch her hand, to circle her wrist with thumb and forefinger, to stroke along the delicate veins in her forearm. He does that and more, because with her he doesn't have to wonder if it's too much, if anybody's looking, if it's what men do.

They hold each other face to face, not any more honest than before but fearless, secure in feelings that would not only not ruin them but save a whole country.

 

~ ~ ~

 

That night Merlin tells Morgana of how he used to hunt her. How there'd come news, from Cornwall, or Gwynedd, or Kent, and he'd go after her, always missing her by so little it was as if she'd flown away or disappeared into thin air. How he was almost glad he'd missed her, because if he'd found her he wouldn't have hesitated to do to her the same he'd done to all magical people and beings he'd ever met, except Gaius. And if all of your kind were on one side, and you on the other, didn't that make you the evil one?

Morgana takes his face in her hands, kisses his forehead, gathers his head to her chest, her very presence a silent reminder of how things have changed.

Everyone in Camelot will talk of how he'd redeemed her, nobody suspecting that in truth it was the other way around.

 

~ ~ ~

 

"Won't you miss Mordred?"

"I love Mordred the same way you love Arthur - I want him to be safe and well much more than I want him for my own."


End file.
